Millions

by Pepper Winters

  I didn’t want to act like I had when Pim gave me the bath.

  I’d taken from her that night.

  Tonight, I wanted to give her everything.

  We fell into companionable conversation about the journey to New York in the next few days. We chatted about tourist attractions and things she’d like to visit and experience.

  My skin sizzled beside her. My heart raced inside me. I barely registered what I ate because all I could think about was her.

  Dessert was a blur as Pim finally noticed my strange behaviour and instead of asking what was wrong, she understood wholeheartedly what I needed.

  The chemistry that’d simmered for weeks while swimming naked at night or exploring local towns in skimpy vacation clothes ignited into an all-out blaze.

  Electricity sparked and spat, reaching an entirely new level.

  A level that crackled in my lungs and hissed in my fingertips.

  I died to touch her.

  I begged to kiss her.

  And she knew.

  How could she not?

  I couldn’t stop touching her, feeding her, running my finger along her lip as she accepted vanilla ice cream from my spoon.

  She knew what I wanted, and from the way she squirmed on her chair and her skin flushed with matching heat, she wanted me, too.

  Only halfway through dessert, I dropped the spoon to clatter against the plate and stood.

  Her eyes widened as I held out my hand. “Please, Pim.”

  She bit her lip, inserted her hand into mine, and followed me silently to my—our—quarters.

  * * * * *

  I loved Pim.

  I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.

  Yet, for some stupid reason, until the moment we stood on the carpet beside my bed and Pim slowly undid the buttons of her loose-fitting shirt and shimmied from her shorts, I hadn’t ventured any further into the future than the next day or next week.

  I was so used to living in the now—never having the luxury to believe I would be granted another tomorrow—let alone another year or decade.

  But Pim...she made me believe I could have those things and if I could have them—if I’d earned them—then I had to do something to tie her to me for the rest of my life. Through any means necessary that wasn’t illegal or morally corrupt such as buying her and never letting her off the Phantom.

  Marriage.

  The idea whispered as she moved toward me, her eyes liquid heat, her body welcoming invitation.

  I let her tug my t-shirt over my head then groaned as she fell to her knees, and unbuckled my belt with deft fingers.

  She didn’t give me time to think as she pulled my shorts and boxer-briefs down, releasing my pounding erection and seamlessly inserting me into her hot mouth.

  I bowed over her, my sense of balance stolen at the first lash of her delicious tongue.

  Sinking fingers into her hair, I swayed on my feet, my eyes snapping closed, my muscles locking in delirium. “Fuck, Pim.”

  She sank deeper, taking my length, somehow scrambling every thought I had left. Shouldn’t I be doing this to her? Wasn’t tonight about her, not me?

  Somewhere deep inside, I had the strength to pull away and scoop her into my arms. “Tonight isn’t about me, Tasmin.”

  She shivered, breaking out in goosebumps as I placed her on the bed and kicked away the rest of my clothing. “I want to do such bad things to you, but I’m going to settle for torturing you first.”

  She gasped as I copied her and fell to my knees. Ignoring flares of residual pain and forcing my cock to behave, I grabbed her thighs, sank my fingers deep into her skin, and pulled her toward the edge of the mattress.

  The moment she was close enough, I locked my mouth around her pussy.

  She cried out, her hands fisting the covers, her head lashing to the side. I placed a heavy hand on her belly to keep her down as she wriggled away from the intensity.

  I growled a warning as I inserted my tongue into her. She was the one who’d directed how tonight would go. She’d jumped straight into forceful foreplay. No sly looks or shy touches.

  I’d been willing to drag out tonight—to take my time adoring her.

  But no...she’d sucked me as if she’d wanted me rock hard and ready to enter her that very fucking moment.

  It’s my turn.

  If she wanted me ready to break, then I wanted her ready to shatter.

  I licked and nuzzled her, forcing her to switch from wet to drenched, from needy to downright dirty with begging.

  “Elder...damn it, El.” Her back arched as I pierced her with two fingers, nipping at her clit.

  I wanted to bite her everywhere.

  I wanted to consume and mark and eat her in a way that turned her into a meal rather than a woman to worship. My lust became tainted with something powerful and violent, annihilating my self-control.

  I loved her.

  But right now, I wanted to punish her for making me love her so much. For making me worry about her leaving me. About making me want her with every fucking part of me.

  I wanted to marry her.

  But before I did that, I wanted to destroy her.

  But no matter how I tried to punish her with pleasure, no matter how deep I drove my tongue or fought for the cries of her climax, I loved her.

  I burned with it.

  I suffocated with it.

  I couldn’t stop myself from launching upright and yanking her off the bed.

  The thick carpet cradled her as I pressed her onto the floor.

  Her fingers latched around my hips as I spread her legs and squeezed her perfect breasts.

  My eyes hazed red with lust. “I-I can’t be gentle.”

  It fucked me off that that was true.

  I’d avoided her for a month so I could be gentle. So I could give her kindness and softness and romance.

  But here we were, her bucking beneath me, mouth wide, eyes wild, and her body begging me to fuck her.

  Her fingers latched around my cock, jerking me forward until I fell over her, only millimetres away from being inside her.

  My stomach flipped as the first slick of hot wetness hit my crown.

  “Do it.” She bared her teeth. “I’ve wanted you to do it for weeks.”

  I crashed over her, capturing her dirty mouth and thrusting into her as hard as I could.

  She screamed. I groaned. We both swore equally into the wicked hot kiss.

  Our tongues fought as we kissed wider, deeper. My cock did its best to climb inside her with every thrust.

  Her nipples pressed tight against my chest as I thrust again, belly to belly, not caring my weight pinned her to the carpet or her legs tangled over my ass, ankles locking to grant leverage to drive herself up while I rocked down.

  We clashed together, again and again. Her eyes dark and gleaming; her lips wet and glistening.

  The soft light from my desk painted her skin in a golden patina, showing off every silver lash of every scar she’d earned before I’d found her.

  Something primal tore through me as I bit her throat and licked at every scar. I wanted to erase them so I could brand her with new ones. I wanted to delete any hardship so I could be the reason she bruised—bruised from being loved so damn much.

  I surged harder into her, already feeling the hot tearing warning of an orgasm.

  Pim screamed as I shifted upward, rubbing myself against her clit as I drove harder, faster.

  Her pussy clenched around me, fist-like and ripple-strong, ripping the rest of my self-control into nothing.

  I roared.

  I came.

  We rode each other with single-minded determination.

  And once our bodies had reached the pinnacle and plummeted back to sanity, I crawled off, grabbed her arm, and pulled her upright.

  Barely able to breathe with sweat drenching my flesh, I guided her until I sat on the chair where I used to play my cello.

  I no longer had a cello but I had P
im, and fuck, I wanted to play her.

  She shivered as I spun her to face me then waited for her to straddle my lap. We groaned in unison as she sank down my length. I couldn’t tear my eyes away as my cock vanished into her body.

  Once connected and inseparable, her arms looped around my shoulders, her gaze going to my gnarly scar from being shot. It no longer hurt as much, which I was grateful for as I ran my hands down her back and found the beads of her spine.

  Pretending they were notes and she was my instrument, I thrust up while pushing her down.

  “God, El!” She bit her lip as her eyes shot closed, giving herself entirely to me, trusting me, loving me, flushed and lusted and absolutely fucking beautiful.

  She hypnotised me as I brought her closer and bit her neck, moving her hair out of the way as I played different chords and songs on her spine.

  She wriggled as I rocked harder, searching the second blistering release already living in my blood.

  I didn’t let her get away, holding her tighter, breathing harder, faster.

  My fingers flew quicker, my music turning into death metal: crude and loud and untamed.

  I grappled her writhing hips, forcing her to take this strange melody instead of orchestrating it with me.

  Her skin was so soft. Her breasts heavy and nipples crimson pink.

  My orgasm switched from burning to exploding, and I tumbled down the cliff of a second time. I fisted her hair, holding the chocolate silk until her head fell back and the vulnerability of her stretched throat begged me to lick and bite.

  I cursed as my teeth sank into her skin and I spurted inside her.

  She rocked on my lap as I froze, overloaded with sensitivity. Having her fuck me instead of me fuck her screwed up my already screwed-up brain, and I struggled not to come again.

  “Christ, you know how to destroy me,” I breathed into her shoulder as my head toppled, heavy and spent.

  “You’re not destroyed...not yet, at least.” Her fingers landed in my hair, brushing back damp strands and digging into the back of my skull. “One more, El. And I know just how I want it.”

  Before I could argue that I was the one in charge tonight, she stood, her body trembling as my cock slipped from her pussy.

  I couldn’t say a word as she spun around, looked at me over her shoulder, then sank to all fours with her ass in the air, waiting, taunting, inviting.

  Fuck me.

  She was swollen and slick, nothing like the terrified, abused girl I’d rescued. She was the temptress I’d always seen in her, and I couldn’t fucking breathe without her permission.

  Slipping off my chair, I crawled to her like the beast she made me, not stopping until my hands covered her fingers and the front of my thighs kissed the back of her legs.

  My cock found her entrance, desperate to return home.

  But I waited, I tormented. I let her rock backward seeking what I could give her and crying out when I did.

  One deep impale.

  One swift fuck.

  Her back hollowed as I curled my fingers around hers and held her still.

  She was small beneath me, small and soft and utterly submissive as I took her from behind.

  I forced myself deeper, savage and stabbing, my skin pricking with need as she gasped and matched me violence for violence.

  “You want this?”

  “Yes.”

  “You want me to fuck you, little mouse?”

  “Hell, yes.”

  “Tell me how much.”

  She bucked beneath me, spearing herself onto my cock as far as she could go. My entire length lived inside her.

  I hissed, my eyes shooting black and my third orgasm spiralling into existence.

  “That much,” she groaned. “I want you to fuck me that much.”

  “Christ, you’re going to make me come.”

  Her fingernails dug into the carpet as I gave up on making this last. This was the finish line. Pimlico was as wild and unhinged as I was.

  The least I could do was give her another soul-searing release so we could collapse and try to breathe again.

  Unlocking one hand from hers, I squeezed her swinging breasts then palmed her ass before following the contours of her hip to her belly and finally between her legs.

  “You’re going to come for me.”

  Her legs snapped together as I rubbed the bundle of nerves guaranteed to make her shatter. I expected a fight. She’d already come. She was overly sensitive. But as I pinched her clit and growled with self-restraint on my own climax, she shattered.

  Wave after wave of bliss rippled right down my cock, sucking me deeper until I forgot I was a man and not a monster.

  I rutted into her senselessly, mercilessly, yanking her back with my hand on her clit, holding her firm as I fucked harder.

  The tip of my cock buried so deep inside her, she cried out.

  But instead of moving away, she swayed back, allowing me to hurt her, permitting me to do exactly what I needed and bruise, mark, and own her.

  Every nerve ending incinerated into fire, singing the music from my cello, spinning into a place I couldn’t survive unless I came.

  A masochistic place where the blazing, blistering pleasure was pain personified even as it sliced through my veins and granted the highest of highs and sharpest of sensations.

  Climaxes were cruel.

  They were cruel at how single-mindedly they could consume a person. Cruel because it took a joint act with our two bodies locked and joined into a singular purpose of release.

  One, two, three times.

  The perfect trio of bliss.

  The ricochet of pleasure through my body faded as I slowly returned to sanity. My brain finally accepted an ending, cutting the ties to my limbs and letting me tumble to the side, bringing Pim down with me.

  Climaxes were cruel.

  But sharing the aftermath with someone I loved more than anything?

  Absolute fucking heaven.

  Chapter Thirty

  ______________________________

  Pimlico

  WAKING UP NEVER failed to jolt me into awareness. Not because of the obviousness of switching sleep to consciousness but because my body and mind sometimes believed I was still in the white mansion in Crete.

  Before, opening my eyes was never a favourite pastime. I’d wished I could sleep forever to avoid what my days entailed. But now...now I opened my eyes and my heart suffocated from pure, unfiltered joy.

  It was Christmas and birthdays and every hallelujah moment when I woke and found I no longer lived in hell.

  I lived with Elder.

  Elder.

  Asleep beside me, a slight frown marring his forehead, his lips pressed sternly as if he battled sleep demons even though the ones in real life had been vanquished.

  I rubbed my chest where my heart swelled to ten times its normal size.

  Love.

  I’m in love.

  I’m safe.

  I’m happy.

  I stopped breathing.

  I’m...happy.

  Such simple words—a sentence normally said flippantly or taken for granted.

  But for me? To be able to say I understood what that string of letters meant and to fully grasp the depth of contentedness and gratefulness in just being alive?

  Wow.

  Rolling onto my back, I looked around Elder’s room and the carpet and chair where we’d had sex last night.

  We’d gone from hardly touching and living with strict rules to attacking each other.

  I had carpet burn on my spine and hips, internal bruises that ached, and a bitten lip from kissing too hard.

  But I wouldn’t trade them for the world. I loved every scratch and scrape.

  There was no stopwatch counting down to another war. No shadows waiting on the fringes to steal our newfound happiness. All we had to do now was see his mother and then decide where we wanted to explore next.

  More islands or mainland? Hot or cold? Uncivilized or cit
y?

  Once again, my body heated with utmost gratefulness and love for the man who’d made this possible. I blew Elder a kiss as my eyes danced around his room again.

  Turning my head, I focused on the open cupboard where his cello used to rest. The straps and padding to protect the instrument looked strangely lonely with nothing to hold. For so long, I’d hated whenever he played. I’d cringe the moment any thread of music infiltrated the silence of the Phantom.

  But last night, I’d become his cello, and it’d reminded me just how much he missed his outlet. I hadn’t heard his songs since we’d returned from France. I hadn’t even noticed his favourite possession was missing.

  I hated that I hadn’t noticed.

  I regretted that I hadn’t asked him why he ceased playing.

  Elder hadn’t told me what happened to his beloved cello, but as I slid out of bed and padded naked to the empty cupboard, the sole of my foot hit something sharp tucked in the soft carpet.

  Bending down, I plucked it from the strands.

  A tiny shard with a few small pieces of horse hair still attached.

  My heart sank.

  Oh, no.

  Was this part of his bow?

  I’d seen how hard he was on those things, tearing the strings with music, turning it from neat to straggly and broken. Running my fingers over the strange pockmarks in the cupboard, I pieced together what’d happened.

  Bullets.

  My shoulders fell.

  Elder had lost his cello the night he’d lost me.

  And unlike fighting for my return...he couldn’t do anything for his cello and had to bury his treasured instrument.

  Glancing at Elder still sleeping behind me, I wished I could find a way to—

  “...at least you’ll have a couple hundred grand to buy your own place or pay for yourself on your adventures rather than rely on Mr. Prest.”

  I had money now.

  My mother had trusted me with her life savings. I had my own pennies and dollars that I could use to gift back what was lost.

  The instant the idea arrived I sped into the bathroom and stole a terrycloth robe from the back of the door. Covering my nakedness, I looked at Elder one last time before vanishing from the bedroom and stepping onto the bright sunny deck.